


Of Smiles, Tears, and Ribbons

by PonderingsAndWritings



Series: Critical Role Relationship Week 2018 [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Critical Role Relationship Week, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PonderingsAndWritings/pseuds/PonderingsAndWritings
Summary: He allows the thoughts of the half smirk to form into full memories of drinking and laughter and quick movement. He makes sure to not do this often. He remembers his dear friend fondly at times, but his departure was laced with so much pain that Shaun can’t help but be affected by it still. After so long.“You’re a good man, Shaun.”





	Of Smiles, Tears, and Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Here we go. First pairing I rolled for this relationship week was Gilmore and Trinket and I hope I did it justice. That bear is everyone's companion in therapy, truly.

The air shifts from the kind and gentle snowfall winter of Emon to the bitter biting breezes of Whitestone in an instant. His otherwise warm clothing feels like a flimsy sleeping robe as it clings to his skin due to the humidity.

Gilmore sighs. Even the insulation of the castle grounds proves unable to shield him from the cold. He shakes the shivers off and rests his eyes on the navy blue tapestries decorating the room. The transportation sigil’s glow recedes as he breathes in the wafts of freshly baked bread. It’s not even dawn, yet he can hear the staff of the castle move around in preparation for today’s feast.

Ten years after the defeat of the Chroma Conclave are not a small amount of time. The wounds on his body ache at the very memory of a breath steaming with the heat of fifty furnaces. His mind is riddled with rivulets, then currents of deep red rivers.

He shakes his head to banish the incoming spiral and follows the smells out of the transportation chamber and into Castle Whitestone itself.

The feast itself is not an established local celebration, but it is the only one Vox Machina will allow. The only celebration which reminds them of when they were whole and living, eager to discover what the future would bring, energetic enough to be bitter and fight and break apart and come together again.

The echo of a familiar smirk makes Gilmore hasten his steps to the main chamber. Cassandra invited him to join them early in the morning in the hopes of getting some necessary paperwork signed for his shop in town and he is not inclined to leave one of the protectors of Whitestone waiting, no matter the personal relationship between them.

He finds the younger woman already awake in the council’s meeting chambers, nursing a cup of tea.

“Shaun,” Cassandra greets him. Multiple wrinkles adorn her eyes these days, but her back lacks the tension of a drawn string he remembers from the earlier years.

“Cassandra, dear! How wonderful to see you,” he exclaims and draws her in a hug before settling in the luxurious leather-upholstered highchair.

“Would you care for a slice?” she extends a plate of chocolate cake to him and he grins.

The paperwork itself does not take them much time, but they get into conversation over future expansions and how his parents fare and he makes her promise to set aside some of that tea from the new Herbs & Brews store. It did marvels for his mother’s bones.

It is during the discussion of Percival’s progress on the clockwork tower that the man in question bursts into the chamber.

The master of Whitestone has not the age indicators his sister seems to have acquired. Gilmore believes it to be more of an indicator of how difficult his past was compared to now. He received all his years worth of wrinkles and frowns in a small amount of time.

“Percival! My goodness, what is this rush? Heard of my arrival and couldn’t wait to greet me?” Gilmore smiles.

Percival actually halts in place and takes an audible breath, wiping at the sweat gathering on his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Gilmore! Hello, my friend.” He stands up straight and sends him a nervous smile in greeting.

Gilmore shifts in place, picking up on the nervous energy at the same time as Cassandra, who rises to move to her brother’s side.

“Brother? Is everything alright?”

Percival shakes his head and clears his throat.

“Why, yes. I suppose technically everything is alright. As in no dragons attacking or well, uhm, otherwise.”

Gilmore shivers slightly and gathers his robes to rise from the highchair and approach the siblings.

“Well, then? Why such panic? Did your working place explode again?” Cassandra smacks her brother on the forehead as she rolls her eyes.

“I told you that was a controlled experiment on the nature of the materials to deduce whether they could be used to store ingredients for firework displays,” Percival sighs in annoyance.

Cassandra ignores him and focuses on the random bits of leaves and small branches that Gilmore can now see have woven their way into his hair.

Cassandra sets to removing them with an audible tut of disapproval as Percival produces a different handkerchief to wipe his glasses.

“Oh, dear,” Gilmore drawls.

Percival takes a look at them both before his posture begins to shag a bit. He remains silent for few seconds before settling his gaze on the wooden floor.

“It is Vex’ahlia… When I woke up this morning, she was already gone. Her quiver and Fenthras were missing and I couldn’t find Trinket anywhere. I checked with Morgan and there is no hunt she alerted them to, so I went to Pelor’s temple and she wasn’t there either.”

Percival shakes his head as he reaches inside his coat and produces an owlbear feather.

“I went to the Raven Queen sanctum right after and found this wedged in the doorway,” he finishes.

Cassandra leans her head on her brother’s shoulder and remains silent.

Gilmore says nothing. In one of his numerous visits to Kaylie, Scanlan had visited him and recounted how Vex and Zahra had spent a week exploring the forests surrounding Vasselheim, leaving Percival and Kashaw to take care of the little ones in the meantime.

Vex had procured quite a few owlbear feathers, found them scattered in the forest and collected them, taking care to use them only in her most significant gifts to her loved ones since.

“I went into the forest to try and find her, but… I did not have much luck,” Percival offers, twirling the owlbear feather in his fingers.

Gilmore’s throat feels sore from his effort to hold back the tears and the desire to do something claws at him.

“I could check on her for you,” he suggests. The magic whirls to life within his fingertips, the spell to locate Vex’ahlia’s prized bow a mere reflex.

“Gilmore, I do not mean to trouble you. I was going to get Jarrett and look for her myself, but I wanted to alert Cass to my absence first,” Percy replies.

“No trouble,” Gilmore rejoins with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I’ll go get our charming Lady and be back soon. Just make sure Grog doesn’t empty the table by the time we’re back.”

Percy opens his mouth to protest again, but Gilmore claps him on the shoulder and shakes his head.

“It’s alright, my friend. You’re a Lord. I’m certain your darling sister here requires your help today of all days. Fear not.”

Cassandra smiles at her brother and nods and Percival follows her lead with a reluctant nod as he frowns in worry.

“I shall be waiting for both of you here, then, Gilmore.”

 

* * *

 

The magic waits to escape his lips at the outskirts of the Parchwood Forest and Gilmore follows it, fondly thinking of Vox Machina and the amount of rubble he’s had to deal with since they rolled into Emon.

He would never change a thing.

He recasts the spell after time lapses a bit and he feels the shinning beacon of magic emanating from Fenthras pulse closer.

He begins to see large bear-like footprints on the ground as he scales the mountainside with baited breath.

Normally, he would have transported himself to the object in a moment’s notice, but he understands Vex’ahlia’s itch to walk, climb, scrape her body. She, like him, hopes that all her pain will imprint itself on the land and lessen sadness’s hold on her heart.

He finds his way to a large concrete structure resembling a palace soon after. The edifice is huge and daunting, gleaming in white marble and reminds him of the homes of giants as he regards the double doors looming ahead.

A mournful whine shakes him from his perusal. Trinket, his familiar brown fur and gleaming armour, has raised his head from the position he has curled himself into.

It is ways away from the intimidating doorway, but with a direct view to it. Trinket is resting on a rather large flat rock and sends another whine his way before gesturing his snout toward the doors.

Gilmore is surprised to see the giant companion of the twi-, of Vex’s, sitting outside alone.

Trinket has given him the go-ahead, though, so he carefully approaches the palace and sees the doors are askew.

Peering inside, he spies giant windows allowing the sunlight to fill the empty chamber.

He moves his head to scan the rest of the space before he finally sees her.

Vex is sitting on the ground in the far left corner of the room, her back supported by the wall. The light shines on her, as if Pelor cannot help but glance at his champion, and Fenthras is resting on her lap.

But she is not alone. Her eyes are resting to the form lying next to her. A giant dark grey and black wolf has his snout pressed against her thigh and Vex is carding her hand through his fur.

Gilmore has heard the howls of Galdric before, but he never thought he’d catch a glimpse of the imposing creature.

He takes care to remove himself from the doorway and join Trinket outside. He hates that he is certain Vex’ahlia knows someone is there.

He also hates that she is probably in so deep pain that she doesn’t care to check who witnessed her vulnerability.

Gilmore settles next to Trinket, feeling the bear nuzzle his arm and sighs.

He allows the thoughts of the half smirk to form into full memories of drinking and laughter and quick movement. He makes sure to not do this often. He remembers his dear friend fondly at times, but his departure was laced with so much pain that Shaun can’t help but be affected by it still. After so long.

 _“You’re a good man, Shaun_.”

The image of Vax’ildan, young and spry and not a wrinkle on his pale skin, springs into his mind as vivid as when he first saw him.

_“I’m Vax’ildan. This is my sister, Vex’ahlia.”_

Carefree is how he likes to picture him. Stealing purses to buy his sister feathers and weave them into her hair as they roast Vex’s hunt over the campfire.

Young. Careless. Together.

 _“Vex was always the smarter one_. _”_

Alive.

He feels the saltiness on his lips, but lets the tears run on his face regardless.

He feels the pain of his friend’s absence. He hates that he never got to say goodbye. Then, again, he remembers the broken form of Vex’ahlia inside the giant fortress and thinks that goodbyes do not always make things easier.

He almost flies in fear as a slurp echoes in his ear.

Trinket licks his cheek and whines, nuzzles his side and looks at him expectantly.

 _“Once, Keyleth and I, wove ribbons and flowers all over Trinket’s fur_. _”_

The memory is so unexpected that it brings out a chuckle.

He remembers the mischief in Vax’s eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows behind Vex’s back when regaling him with that story.

He remembers Trinket’s grunt at hearing it.

He remembers Vex’s frustrated _Honestly, brother_.

The tears and laughter escape him simultaneously as he reaches for Trinket’s side and buries himself into the bear.

He is certain Vex can hear him. Certain that her ritual of connecting to Galdric, of talking to the other surviving limb of a severed whole will end soon. Certain that Trinket will run to console his mistress and offer his steady presence.

But Trinket knows Vex needs to stay by Galdric’s side for now and allows Shaun the comfort of nuzzling his side again and remaining guard.

And Shaun knows he’d rather cry into the twins’ favourite fury companion than allow Vex to see his breakdown. His other friend is very much alive and has a deep burden to carry. She should be allowed to break in her own time.

Later, she’ll come out and pet Trinket and grasp his arm to help him up.

They’ll look at each other and smile a broken smile.

They’ll wash their faces at the river and head to Whitestone and join the feast with the others.

And they’ll look at the ravens and send prayers to the shadows.

_“Trinket’s the best. Aren’t you?” Vax._

_“Honestly, Vax’ildan. That bear tolerates you too much_.” _Shaun._

_Trinket moves to lick the side of his face as the half elf grins and Vex shakes her head._

_“See? Trinket loves me too! He always whines when I’m not there to give him snacks,” Vax teases Vex._

As Shaun’s tears slowly ebb and the chuckles come to a halt, he clutches Trinket’s fur in his hands.

The silence of the forest is peaceful, yet deafening.

Gilmore is silent.

Vex is silent.

Trinket whines.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did my very best with this. I hope I did not disappoint. Please excuse any mistakes in grammar and/or syntax. I went through this to proofread but stuff can escape my notice and I didn't want to upload this too late into the CritRole Relationship Week. 
> 
> Reviews and kudos are always welcome.


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